


A Dragon's Claim

by MissingTriforce



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Instincts, Animalistic, Bondage, Bones is a selkie, Consensual Non-Consent, Dubious Consent, Episode: s03e23 All Our Yesterdays, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Kirk is a Fairy Prince, Large Cock, M/M, Magic Cock, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Roughness, Spock is half-dragon, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingTriforce/pseuds/MissingTriforce
Summary: Bones hates alien libraries. They never do what a library’s supposed to. I.e. lend you books. They always do crazy shit, like transport you to strange historical periods that involve an inappropriate amount of ice and snow. And no magic. He takes one step and feels suffocated.A fantasy PWP retelling of “All Our Yesterdays” where Spock is half-dragon, Bones is a selkie, and Kirk is a fairy prince. No, really.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Spock/Zarabeth (Star Trek)
Kudos: 62





	A Dragon's Claim

Bones hates alien libraries. They never do what a library’s supposed to. I.e. lend you books.

They always do crazy shit, like transport you to strange historical periods that involve an inappropriate amount of ice and snow. And no magic. He takes one step and feels suffocated.

“I cannot survive long in this climate,” is the first thing Spock says.

“This isn’t exactly an ocean either!” Bones shouts back. A shivering beat. “Where the hell is Jim?”

He hears Jim’s voice through the stone—fairy princes can’t speak through stone naturally—and he collapses. He wakes up a little in Spock’s warm arms, being carried, and he pleads to be let down—snow is water too; it’ll take care of him; Spock’s already trembling; dragons and Vulcans hate the cold—but Spock refuses. Darkness again. A figure wrapped in furs. A cave. A primitive fire. Dark.

“—Zarabeth.”

:*:

Bones wakes up to groaning. It’s a confusing sound to wake up to, ‘cause he was expecting death and howling wind, and it reminds him of hospital full of the sick. But reality is much worse, stuck in an Ice Age with no access to technology or magic or Jim, and that’s the thought that causes him to crawl out of bed, towards the continued sound.

Bones limps towards it, cursing all the little pebbles and the dry, cold cave and the dry, cold floor.

He rounds the corner and he finds them. She is laid open on the stone table like a crushed and bruised flower, legs splayed and clutching him inside her. He grunts and sweats and thrusts into her emptiness, braces her wrists to the hard table edges. She—Zarabeth?—is flushed delirious, her eyes stare sightless with rapture, her short golden hair drenched in sweat, her belly visibly swollen with dragon cock beneath her clothes. Spock’s pre-cum is dripping from her thighs, drenching them both at their joining, making them slippery, but she holds on, she wants him, her legs are so strong from such a harsh home.

“Yes,” she mouths. “Yes, yes—“

Spock’s so caught in mating that he’s losing his humanoid form. Green scales are peeking through on Spock’s cheeks, his pupils are slits circled in lust. He pounds into her and she rocks with him, forward again, eager. His face is dark and grim, eyes driving into her as determinedly as his desire. Magic is crackling in the air and against Bones’ skin and he relishes it, breathes it gratefully. Spock holds her tight enough to bruise, tight enough to hurt, tight enough to truly—

“No!” Bones shouts, realization and reason catching up, as he trips in his haste to get to them. His feet are still weak from frostbite, and they are shouting over him. Zarabeth arches forward as much as her draconic restraints allow, graceful as a dancer, mouth a perfect exclamation. She cums with a blessed-out smile, face apple pink.

But then Spock is cumming and her face transforms into perfect agony as his seed breaks through her, tears her, like a sudden rip tide. She gives a strangled cry and tries to twist away but Spock follows her, still has her hands. He rocks like waves and it goes on and on and on until suddenly something switches her and she is one with the tide, cumming again, confusion eclipsed by pleasure.

“Be mine,” he growls deep in his throat, predatory.

“Yes,” she breathes and relaxes and practically glows. Her legs fall from Spock’s sides and Bones knows it is too late.

Spock pulls himself out and growls again, but it’s a happy noise and he leans forward to nuzzle her face and Bones can’t stand it; this is not allowed. She’s not magical, not at all, why is Spock choosing _her_? He already has Bones and Jim.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something!?” he shouts. “What about Jim? What about the _Enterprise_?! We’ve got our own lives, Spock! We’ve got to get back to them!”

The half-dragon’s anger is instant. He appears before Bones and lifts him up by the collar and throws him across the room. Bones’ head smashes against the rock wall and all he can feel are stars and all he can see is pain. But Spock is relentless, He’s there again and lifting Bones up by the neck, letting his feet dangle. Bones chokes and his thoughts race, trying to compensate for lack of oxygen.

The only time he’d seen Spock disregard Jim was that emotion virus incident, when they had hardly known each other. The half-Vulcan, half-dragon hybrid treasured his logic, but hoarded his emotions and love like they were real jewels.

Now, more scales were showing and Spock’s eyes were like daggers, dark as stab wounds on a moonless night. Now, Spock was stroking himself, hard and fast and blurred. Now the dragon’s dick jutted out before him, dripping pre-cum already; his mouth were defiant, fangs glittering.

_The fae and human worlds had never really separated, and when First Contact happened, things just got even weirder. Not only are there people with fae-human blood, but now human-fae-alien hybrids. Biology and doctoring’s a final frontier all itself. Barely know how anybody reacts to anything. But this: alpha male dragons, once deciding on their herd and establishing their territory, will stake their claim on all potential broodmates as soon as possible, resulting in—_

Bones choked more and tried to spit out sea water bubbles. Selkies could hold their breath a long time, but he had to get out of his hold soon. Spock and he had a special arrangement when it came to sex. Jim had sex with Spock, casually, whenever needed, once spent an entire shore leave in a hotel bed, whispering sweet nothings and trading sweet orgasms. Bones didn’t participate, wasn’t even there, and grumbled about the fact that they weren’t getting enough rest, which is what shore leave was intended for.

No, outside of Jim especially requesting it, Bones and Spock only had sex when Spock irretrievably angry with him. Bones loved it and hated it and loved it more. His pants were becoming tight. His prick was responding.

“Submit, Doctor.” Spock’s voice was deep, guttural, heinous.

It broke Bones’ resolve. His legs went weak and spread bowlegged. Only thrice—only thrice had a selkie felt this pleasure—but Jim—he would resist.

Bones couldn’t even reprimand himself for the thought before Spock’s free hand Vulcan-pinched him to faint. Bones had never been so glad for the oncoming black.

:*:

Bones wakes up this time to a sense of invasion, bound wrists, and a hard prick. He opens his eyes to see what that is all about.

He’s on his bed again, lying on his stomach. The handcuff knot on his wrists is also connected to a heavy, metal ring drilled into the wall. His prick is hard to the point of hurting. He realizes Spock’s hot finger is slowly invading him, stroking his nub, causing it all.

“Lord have mercy,” Bones murmurs.

“Awake,” Spock says, voice still deep. “Good.”

The illusion of patient tenderness is gone as three hot fingers are jammed into his arse, slick and scissoring. Bones screams and scrambles onto his elbows and knees. He tries to kick backwards—he did say he would fight, right—but Spock grabs his ankle and slaps it against the bed and rams the head of his cock in.

“Ohhhh,” Bones keens loud enough to have the echo reverberate. He tries to jerk away, but Spock then has his hips and slaps them back, back onto the head of his over-large dragon cock.

Bones can feel his ankle and hips bruising, but Spock’s pre-cum is filling him anyway—he can feel it filling his inside, making him just as slick as Zarabeth had been. Spock pulls away and demands entrance again, again, again.

Bones whimpers and tugs weakly on his bound hands, seeking escape that way, but he doesn’t really want to escape. Already he is losing himself in Spock’s heat, in the rhythm. He does want this, despite appearances. He loves it when Spock is violent, when he loses control, when he loses control with Bones, because it means that Spock is actually feeling something. Bones would never fuck a machine.

Bones is being knocked over almost by this violence, this passion, this claiming. He wants it, his prick is starting to weep on its own, and it’s his choice to duck his head and lift his ass and make it easier to let Spock in. Bones doesn’t know what’s going on at the moment, why Spock chose _now_ for a claiming, when Jim’s missing, but Bones is going to enjoy it, this illusion that Spock loves him.

He’s not disappointed. Spock lifts himself up and angles down and drives into the new openness. Bones cries out at the sheer _heat_ of Spock filling him to the hilt, how full it feels, how he can feel Spock’s heartbeat. He can’t believe he was feeling frostbite only an hour before. He can feel his belly swell and he shuts his eyes tight, to better relish the moment.

They are still for a moment, for an infinitesimal point of time, before Spock decides to pound. Bones is practically flattened into the mattress with the force of Spock’s thrusts and his knees weaken each hit, until it’s only Spock’s grip on his hips holding him up. He goes weak as a rag doll and loses himself in hot, wet beat, the in and out, his world narrowed down to where Spock and he touch.

His own orgasm startles him out of it, makes jerk his head up and yell and push back again. He sees white and water until it is _more_ because Spock’s cumming too and it tears through them both.

He yells and Spock roars, and they are yelling and roaring together. Bones feels like his insides are boiling, boiling salt water, and he wants to turn around and kiss Spock, to give it back to him, make sure he’s feeling it too. His lips are tingling and magic is exploding everywhere in the air, bursting into reality, fusing into the rock and ice and cold. Bones can feel it. And he sees.

The sight is gone and Spock is finished. He collapses onto Bones, Bones lets himself fall. He can feel Spock’s heartbeat against his back, can count the labored breathing. Bones feels like a salted out husk, all his water-magic is gone and floating in this universe, wherever they are. He’s staring out into the cave, where the fire’s a little brighter, the ground a little less cold, and Zarabeth is stirring from where Spock left her passed out and bruised on the table.

Spock mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like “Bones,” in his ear. The half-dragon rises and pulls out, and Bones whimpers at the loss, but is immediately rewarded when the dragon turns him on this side and holds him close. Spock’s body cups him like protective barrier and emanates contented warmth and slowly Bones starts feeling more alive.

Bones watches Zarabeth—if that indeed was her name—get up and limp towards the fire. She hasn’t seen them yet, perhaps slept through their whole love-making. Bones wonders what they’re going to do. It would be safest for her to come with them. She’s bearing a hybrid child: Bones knows her womb is tightening, her watery blood is forming a protective nest for the freshly fertilized egg. Hybrid births are never pretty, if they come to term. Miscarriages can be equally horrifying.

Damn dragons and their infernal seed. Bones had counted his lucky stars that the last alien women who had successfully seduced Spock hadn’t been impregnated—she was clever enough to use a goddamned condom and take birth control. It’s terrible that Zarabeth does not have access to these things—how did people even live in these sort of centuries.

Spock is falling asleep. Should they leave now or when Spock woke up? They should leave now. Spock could sleep for a long time, and may be in the mood for more mating when he woke. That was time they didn’t have.

“Spock,” Bones says. “Jim.”

Spock takes a deep breath. “What about Jim?” Bones cheers that he’s responding and speaking. Maybe whatever was influence that triggered the mating is wearing off.

“Didn’t you see it?”

“There’s a portal,” Spock says, but it’s slow. “Dragons can go through any portal, once infused with magic. I could carry everyone through.”

“We need to get Jim,” Bones swallows. “You love Jim.”

Spock’s hold on Bones tightens, but he says, “Correct.” A pause. “Love is such a human expression.”

Bones wonders where this is going, but today’s been a weird day. “What about it?”

Spock whispers, so only Bones can hear, “I love you as well.”


End file.
